


desperation

by jazspers



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-14
Updated: 2013-07-14
Packaged: 2017-12-20 04:37:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/883017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazspers/pseuds/jazspers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>aoba's restless and the scent of cinnamon is too tempting to pass up</p>
            </blockquote>





	desperation

**Author's Note:**

> i dont even like this i just really wanted to write minao
> 
> i might write an alternate ending with somnophilia to this but idk

After a week Aoba had stopped counting the days. Day and night cycled endlessly, each passing with little result. Mink came and went as he pleased, spoke as he pleased, did as he pleased, and Aoba couldn’t keep up. He was little more than a bystander, only capable of watching as Mink cast off any attempts Aoba made to so much as speak to him with a hardened glare. Once or twice Aoba managed to get a sentence out of him, and he relished those moments as if they were precious gems, but he still wasn’t satisfied.

Mink went to bed at exactly 9 pm every night, and was generally asleep within the hour. Aoba turned on the couch restlessly, a large quilt strewn atop him like a net to hold him down. He shut his eyes but they sprang back open and the more he repeated this action the less tired he became. Finally, he sat up, throwing the heavy cloth aside, his heart pounding in his ears. He shot up on impulse, his feet moving before he understood where he planned on going until they came to a stop in front of Mink’s bedroom door. It was late, he’d be asleep, he would never know Aoba was here and therefore he couldn’t reject Aoba now. That thought rang in his head like a siren, blaring loud enough to drown out a voice of reason.

What stopped him now was the trembling of his fingers that refused to move. The lines on the wooden door blurred out of focus as he stared straight forward. His mind was blank for he feared if he dared to think his conscience would send him reeling back to bed. With a deep breath he clenched a fist and let it go, and with the most delicate of movements he opened the door.

The familiar scent of cinnamon danced around him in an embrace so warm he wanted to drown in it. A few feet away Mink slept peacefully, his faint breaths the only sound breaking through the thick silence. Aoba crept closer still, wincing as the floor made small creaks in time with his steps, but thankfully Mink was far too deep in slumber to hear them. Standing over him was a new experience. Mink was always above him, in both height and relation, so to watch him so still, so calm, felt like a new world had opened up to Aoba. With an arm tucked neatly under his head, he was curled in a fetal position at the edge of the bed with a face devoid of expression. If it weren’t for the routine raspy breaths that escaped Aoba might have thought him dead.

His peaceful face tempted Aoba, who started to shake once more. Breath hitched in his throat, his stomach was in knots, blood boiled in his brain as every orifice in his body screamed to turn back, to run away before he gets caught with his hand on Mink’s cheek and his lips centimeters away from Mink’s own. The cinnamon embrace was a curse that tempted him sweetly, and his shoulders shivered as Mink’s breath caressed his face.

And suddenly, his lips tingled. Mink’s were cold and dry but Aoba savored the feeling nonetheless. He licked at the small cracks on the surface and carefully pulled down Mink’s jaw enough to slip his tongue inside. Desperately, fervently he twisted his tongue around Mink’s, and despite the lack of response, it excited him. His chest heaved, his legs shook, his eyes began to water and saliva dribbled his chin. He finally pulled away, gasping for air, and fell to his knees. The only thing Aoba could feel was his heart pounding out of his chest. Mink’s mouth glistened now. Aoba thought it beautiful, like a dog still attached to its owner after death. Before he knew it tears began to fall, cascading down his face without a sign of stopping.

Aoba didn’t understand. His head couldn’t make heads nor tails out of what his body did. He pulled himself and steadied himself over Mink once more, cleaning his own mess off with the edge of his sleeve. Mink still hadn’t moved, the violation from Aoba’s mouth not rattling him in the slightest. It was impossible for Aoba to tell if he was grateful or hurt. Tears dropped onto Mink’s face and he wiped them one by one until he found the effort fruitless. He rested his hand against Mink’s face, crying openly atop him.

"Why…" He muttered, his hand clenching against Mink’s cheek. “Why won’t you acknowledge me…? I came all this way and you still…" He trailed off, teeth clenched, the ache in his throat drowning the words that still begged to surface.

Mink’s eyes fluttered open then. Not fully, but enough that Aoba could clearly see the golden sheen in them. They were glossed over and half lidded and Aoba wasn’t sure if he was even awake, but he still stood stiff as a deer about to be mauled by a car. Mink’s face twitched for a second and his soft gaze rested on Aoba. 

Suddenly and without warning, Mink’s hand settled gently atop Aoba’s. Their fingers entwined, his eyes softly closed, a warm smile now crossing his lips. Aoba didn’t know how to respond.

"An angel…" Mink whispered under his breath, probably talking in his sleep. "…came to visit again…" 

They stayed like that in silence for what seemed like hours before Mink’s hand finally loosened enough for Aoba to escape. He slammed the door quickly behind him, not caring about the noise, and buried himself into the couch. His heart raced, his throat ached, his eyes were dry and stung and the feeling of Mink’s rough fingers entwined with his own never left his hand. Under the safety of the large quilt, he cradled that hand and sobbed until he exhausted himself to sleep.

When Aoba awoke the next morning, the night’s events seemed hazy. He convinced himself it was a dream, good or bad he wasn’t sure. Mink was sitting at the dining room table, staring intensely into his coffee cup.

"Are you alright?" Aoba yawned as he asked the question, only half expecting a response. Mink was silent at first, still entranced by the swirls of milk in his cup. He was three seconds from leaving the kitchen in defeat before Mink finally spoke up.

"I…" He took a breath, contemplating his words carefully. "…had a strange dream last night."

After that, he left without a word.


End file.
